greatest_zatara: (showtime)
[personal profile] greatest_zatara
If you asked Zachary Zatara to ever choose between style and substance, he'd tell you you were a fool for thinking there was a difference. Nothing without style has any substance, he'd be happy to inform them. That attitude was reflected in his magic as well. Never cook up a spell with three components if you can squeeze in seven, that sort of thing. Between his house and Constantine's, he'd managed to concoct a suitable recipe for deception. Old metal, older than most countries, had enough provenance to serve as the basis for a fake Helm (and really the museums that had displaced them had had generations to find the weapons they used for material, and if they hadn't found them by now, they obviously hadn't cared enough). The various distortions of time and connection to one of the creation energies made Mister Garrick's blood another useful component, although Zachary's (however sass-laden) deference to his elders made him more cautious than usual in drawing the portion he needed, and he'd bid the old man get a snack and some juice afterwards.

The rest of it really came down to cosmetics and tailoring, areas in which Zachary excelled through no other virtue than study and repetition. Abdullah made a near flawless double by the time Zachary was done with him. Constantine's regularly scheduled disregard for his own health, and other bad decisions, would account for any nicks and dents here and there. Mundane skill covered everything the naked eye could perceive, and with the actual Helm and Constantine nearby, he could (with more effort than he liked to admit, truth be told) redirect any scrying or similar magical detections onto the decoy.

"So..." Zach circled the stand-in, "--where are we setting this hook?"
greatest_zatara: (arms folded)
[personal profile] greatest_zatara
"Just follow the red lady, just a matter of if your eyes are fast enough, lady and gentlemen." 'Z' addressed the small crowd in front of him and his folding table, as he flipped a trio of playing cards back and forth. He gave a flourish and showed the red queen for a moment before slipping it back into the mix. "She's not smart enough to get away for long. Can't be that smart if she named both her sons 'Jack'." He displayed the Jacks of Clubs and Spades without falling out of rhythm, before letting all three cards into their final place with a gently audible slap of coated paper on plastic.

Sure, these people were getting what would have been a 500 an hour treatment at any private engagement Zach attended, but it was always important to keep his skills sharp. He could have made the game foolproof with even the most basic illusion, but where's the glory in that? He was every bit the stage magician that Zanna was, after all, and that included the cosmetics he was currently sporting. Lightening the hair, making the cheeks a little more gaunt, and shabby-chic clothes. The perfect vision of a reasonably competent busker; not starving, but probably hadn't seen steak in a while. The growing stack of singles on the table looked like a very great achievement (and would make a nice addition to the charitable donations pile when he did his taxes next).
needsnewbusinesscards: (Default)
[personal profile] needsnewbusinesscards
John was having a much needed cigarette break in between moving magical and mystical artifacts from his old friend Jasper's Mill House that he had been staying in during his adventures to the House of Mystery that had become the headquarters of the Justice League Dark, he didn't see the point in having two residences when the House of Mystery was a lot more mobile and less confusing to navigate since he knew the magics that lingered within more than those that had been placed by someone else. It wasn't an easy job as just putting things in a box and hoping that they didn't break in transit, there were some items that just couldn't be packed with others unless the exorcist wanted very bad things to happen and then there was the unpacking too.

Constantine sighed with a puff of light grey almost white smoke issuing from between his slightly parted lips as he tried to figure out whether he should just ward one storage room from the backlash of whatever was going to happen, or to actually sit down and  sort through the small mountain of boxes so that things didn't explode or even call forth someone like the demon Trigon by accident.

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